[She's right. Neither of them are destined to be a part of the other's happiness. If he's destined for happiness at all. But in this moment, folded up in the lonely dark and holding too many jagged clashing emotions, all he can think to write is:]
Come see me.
[And he fires it off before he can think better of it. Then a hasty amendment:]
Tomorrow.
[After all, the hour is waning to nearly three o'clock by now.]
no subject
Come see me.
[And he fires it off before he can think better of it. Then a hasty amendment:]
Tomorrow.
[After all, the hour is waning to nearly three o'clock by now.]